Rafael & the magic DarKNight

“Loser, loser, loser.”

Rafael stiffened when the first wave of insults hit him. His classmates’ hateful whispers pierced his skin like a volley of tiny arrows. Releasing a slow, labored breath, he tried to remember why he shouldn’t let them bother him.

Haters are self-loathing weaklings; they alleviate their pain by humiliating who they envy. His mum’s explanation echoed in his mind like a mantra. Yet, no justification could alleviate the harm they inflicted on him.

Soft-spoken, nonetheless spiteful words kept reaching his ears. A glance at the teacher, Mrs. Zadi, confirmed that she seemed, as usual, oblivious to the sneaky attacks.

Should he complain, she would aim her cold stare at him and tell him to stop his whining because it disrupted the class workflow. He wondered if she was blind and deaf on purpose.

So no, no help there.

“Crybaby...”

Arching his back in a futile attempt to make himself invisible, he returned to his math. Numbers were soothing, beautiful, straightforward. Their reliability was relaxing. He could see them in his mind, rising and falling in intricate patterns. Doing arithmetic was similar to following a thread of lacework with his mental fingertip. Although the worksheets on his desk were unchallenging, they offered an effective diversion from Leon and Momo, who had upped their baiting antics.

“Ouch!” Rafael flinched when something sharp stung his nape. Spinning around to face his tormentors, he whispered a furious, “Leave me alone.”

Leon smirked and winked at his pals, who giggled from a few seats down the row. Mrs. Zadi chose that exact moment to approach them. “Rafael,” she said, each word coated in frost, “stop distracting your classmates.”

His heart jumped out of his chest. “But–”

“No excuses. Since you have so much free time, grab an extra worksheet.”

Her hard mouth and the glint of malevolence in her eyes crushed his protest. If he rebelled, she would pin his name to the yellow disk on the classroom’s door, branding him ill-behaved – maybe even the red one, depending on her mood.

Fingering the smooth metallic piece stowed in his pocket, he wrestled the mutinous dragon inside of him that cried out for justice. In the end, the blatant threat of public disgrace overrode his urge to protest. And so, he looked down, ignoring the bullies’ scornful giggles, and pretended to concentrate on his worksheet. Allowing his mind to wander, he was soon imagining today’s afternoon soccer match. The dragon settled down with a heartsick sigh.

Two easy calculations and five fabulous imaginary scores later, the bell chimed. The children sprang from their seats as one and stormed outside.

Weaving through the herd, Rafael caught up with his quirky friend, Patrick, and they hastened toward freedom.

“Did you notice Momo’s shirt?”

Rafael shook his head. “The less I see him...”

“It reads: Catch me if you can. That’s irony at its finest. You know how lame he is!”

Amid all the chaos, Rafael didn’t notice Mrs. Zadi’s menacing gaze had followed him until he parted ways with Patrick and turned down the road that hugged the church. Or Leon skulking behind him.

The piece of chalk snapped between Isobel Zadi’s fingers.

They had forced her to relocate to this half-forsaken village. She hated them, despised this place, and detested how she had lost her hold on the strings of her fate.

Children fell through the system every day, she seethed, throwing the chalk bits in the bin. Why couldn’t he quit and surrender himself to despair?

With a few careless words, she had manipulated Rafael’s peers into resenting his good grades, even supported their harassment by neglecting his pleas for help. It was easy for her to let the bullies crush Rafael, a satisfying way to regain control of her life.

But alas, his parents cared enough to meddle, putting her in a tight spot. Her lips tightened in disgust as she dusted her hand.

She needed to act soon.

Rafael loved walking home. He was longing for his mum’s smile. It was a special smile, one that said: “You’re mine, I get you, I love you.”

Angling his face skyward to let the weak sun dry his tears, he decided to spare her a recounting of his morning. No point anyway.

The brief moment of peace was shattered when, without warning, he found himself flying sideways. The weight of his backpack dragged him down, and he crashed onto the unforgiving asphalt. His breath hitched when he felt searing pain radiating from both hands and stopped altogether when he heard the shrill screech of car tires. His body stiffened, bracing for the imminent impact.

It never came. Instead, the hollow clang of a closing door broke the spell holding him frozen, and he cracked an eye open. Upon spotting the rusty bumper that had stopped within inches of his face, his breath rushed out in a painful sigh of relief.

A soft nudge on his shoulder jolted him back to reality, prompting all kinds of aches to surface.

“Sweetie, are you all right?”

Through his hazy vision, he recognized Mrs. Hillbrown’s corkscrew hair. She lived up the street and insisted on giving him homegrown apples and berries whenever he passed by.

“I believe we both had a dreadful scare,” she said with a catch in her voice. “How about we just sit down for a little while?”

She steered him back to the curb. Her hands were clutching him to the point of pain, but he didn’t mind. “I don’t understand how it happened.” She drew in a quavering breath, her hands now trembling on his arms. “He appeared like a ghost, shoved you, then disappeared just as fast...”

Rafael blinked like a broken streetlight, feeling embarrassed by the whole thing. When his focus sharpened, his eyes fell on a stray sunbeam that highlighted the red streaks marring his palms. A pained gasp escaped him, interrupting her rambling.

She cringed and rose to her feet. “Let me take you home.”

Today, he wouldn’t see his mum’s beautiful smile.

“Mum, I could die anytime, right?”

Julia looked up from the carrots she was slaughtering. Her heart ached every time she recalled opening the door and seeing the look of devastation on her son and poor Mrs. Hillbrown’s faces. Bless the woman for her quick reflexes. The police didn’t deem the almost deadly prank worth a chunk of their precious time. Idiots.

She had nursed Rafael’s wounds and soothed his nerves with a hot chocolate. But now, as he gazed at her with red-rimmed eyes and heartbreak in his voice, she could tell his fragile confidence had been damaged. In hindsight, it wasn’t surprising, especially in light of the hardship he had endured the past year.

Knowing his peace of mind depended on her answer – and how was she supposed to explain this one? – she put her knife aside and opened her arms. As he snuggled up to her, she breathed in his unique scent. The last vestiges of childhood were peeling away, and now a new personality pushed to emerge through the tortuous paths of adolescence.

“Why do you think about your death?” she asked, stalling for time.

“You know how all the dinosaurs died when the big meteor struck the Earth, Mum. What if that happens to us too?”

As she considered his question, his small voice rose again. “I don’t want to die. I’ve only had a mini-short life, no time at all.”

Lennart, his older brother, seized the opportunity to quit his homework and joined the cuddle. Her arms hurt from his fierce embrace.

“You are not going to die. We won’t let you die, ever!” Lennart said with a confidence that only a teenager could muster.

Just like that, they all teared up. Her older son, by promising the impossible, had defused the situation and relieved some of his brother’s heartache. She sighed in relief. Opportunities to discuss their mortality would present themselves later. In a more comfortable setting, she hoped. Much later.

Meanwhile, she had a funny story to tell, and she would use it to steer the children back to normality.

“Do you know the dinosaurs died out because they were dumb?”

“Really?”

“Run, Rafael, run!”

His mum’s encouragement merged with the cacophony of shouts and action on the playing field.

He kept his eyes glued to the goal, his labored breath drowning out the tumult. His feet pounded the slippery ground as he chased the ball. He had to score; his team needed it.

Centering the ball with his left foot, he stopped it with his right, feigned to the opposite side, pivoted halfway, and darted past his off-balance opponent.

He glanced up at the sea of red shirts surrounding him. Where were his teammates? Ah, there. Behind the red line closing on him, he spotted a blue shirt.

Digging his cleats deep into the ground to avoid a fatal skid, he wrested a burst of speed from his tired legs and positioned himself for a sharp-angled flank toward his teammate.

Leon stood alone by the undefended goal, his lazy hand raised in a silent request for the ball. Rafael felt his extra-awareness switch on. That was his talent: He had a sixth sense that allowed him to feel the layers of air and predict how the pressure differences would affect a shot.

Now the ball’s trajectory to reach Leon was a bright curved line in his mind, and he angled his foot to kick the ball to follow that specific course. It shot up, curved down, and wobbled a little due to an unexpected gust. Reaching for the ball with his mental fingers, Rafael yanked it back to its correct flight path.

It slammed on the earth right at Leon’s feet. What happened next was the sorry story of their team: Leon missed the ball, and in an ill attempt to regain control, fumbled it out of bounds. Today the team was at its worse.

Winded, Rafael trudged back to the middle line. Next round, next chance. He loved soccer, but at times like this...

After a grueling eternity of furious footwork and plenty more mangled opportunities, the whistle blew a final time. They had lost. This year, his team sat at the bottom of the rankings.

Bent over with his hands on his knees, he remained on the field until he caught his breath. The wounds on his palms burned from the sweat, his whole body ached, but he was past caring.

“Fine work, Rafael,” Coach Hanny said with a comforting pat on his shoulder. “Keep it up. Next time will be better!”

As Hanny walked away, he shook his head, amazed by the coach’s optimism. But then, with this team, he had to be. Rafael, on the other hand, didn’t expect any improvement soon. Shrugging off the defeat, he headed to the locker room.

A heavy arm encircled his shoulders, interrupting his brooding.

Momo’s presence meant problems were looming, so he tried to side-step and break free.

“No, no, no, you little brat,” the overweight guy said in a singsong manner as he tightened his hold, “you need to come with me.”

Rafael looked back to the cluster of chatting parents, but nobody was paying attention. A blink later, Momo had dragged him around the corner of the building, cutting the chances of anyone hearing him if he called for help.

Realizing the severity of his predicament, Rafael threw his whole body into a desperate sideways jump. Momo’s fingers scraped against the rough wall, and a yelp later, Rafael was free. But as he spun around to flee, another hand grabbed him and wrenched him further into the dim area.

“We need to talk.”

The raspy whisper cut his struggle short. Rafael squinted. “Leon?”

Rafael studied the guy’s pale, puffy face. Aware of Momo at his back, he crossed his arms, locked his cotton legs in place, and lifted his chin.

“Look, I sent all the balls your way. It’s not my fault–”

Leon cut him off with a sharp, angry gesture, leaned in until his face was within inches of Rafael’s, and said through clenched teeth, “You’re a cheater, a spoiled little brat, and a crybaby.”

Rafael winced upon hearing those spiteful accusations that had shadowed his life for the past year.

Leon had a “reap-the-harvest-without-the-effort” worldview and didn’t care how hard Rafael had worked for his success. Because experience told him explanations would be a waste of breath, Rafael infused his response with bored politeness.

“Okay. If that’s all...”

At that, the rictus on Leon’s face darkened, prompting Rafael to unlock his knees and roll to the balls of his feet in alarm.

“You’ll convince everybody I had nothing to do with your freak accident earlier today. I’m innocent,” Leon said, thumping his thick finger into Rafael’s chest with each word. “Or you’ll regret it.”

Momo’s cold cackle behind him promised pain if he didn’t comply.

“Come on, Momo,” Leon said, “this little brat isn’t worth my time.” He plowed into Rafael with his shoulder and stomped away with a glower.

Massaging his chest, Rafael watched them swagger off with a puzzled frown. Mrs. Hillbrown had told the police that the perpetrator was a thin, athletic guy. That didn’t match Leon’s bulky build at all.

“I wished I wasn’t worth your time. Ever,” he whispered.

He was still ruminating when he felt a sharp blow on his head, and everything went dark.

Julia detoured to avoid the cluster of chatty, catty soccer mums. She only tolerated their sneaky glances and gossips because Rafael blossomed on the field, and the sport had been instrumental in restoring his sense of self-worth.

They came to preen and cheer on their offspring, regardless of weather conditions or game results. One had to admire their dedication, if not their ability to assess their kid’s talent correctly.

Approaching the lone, drab building that housed the locker room, she caught a glimpse of the two terribles – that was her nickname for Leon and Momo – skulking away. A twinge of paranoia hit her, and she headed for the spot they had just exited. Wondering about their shifty behavior, she rounded the corner and peered into the secluded area.

Her world stopped.

Her baby boy lay crumbled in a heap on the cold dirt.

Lurching in his direction, she brushed against a shadowy figure, but when she angled her head to see who it was, the gloomy space was empty. She exhaled a shaky breath, cursed her panicked mind, and dropped to her knees to check her son. Breath. Pulse. Good.

After a harrowing call to emergency service, she settled for the wait, stroking his damp hair with trembling hands and urging him to wake up. When she noticed the red smear on her fingers, her mouth opened in silent horror.

One moment, he was weightless, floating on a tranquil sea. The next, he was straining himself to break free – from what, he didn’t know. A strong impulse was urging him to awaken. Wake up? Why?

“Rafael!”

He tried to home in on the faint call from afar.

“Come on, Rafael!”

Hearing the urgency in the voice, he reached deeper, fought harder, and stretched toward the hazy light in the distance. Finally, he felt whatever was holding him down release its grasp.

“Here you go, Rafael.”

The soothing, female voice encouraged and guided him the rest of the way. With a jolt, he was out, his body heavy, his mind confused.

“We’ve got him.”

A long pause. The rustle of clothes.

“Then, my work is done. I shall retire,” someone else said with a tired, gravelly voice.

“Thanks, Medeor. That was a close call.”

The clicking sound of a door closing resounded in the silence. Meanwhile, Rafael tried to get his bearings.

“You can look at me, you know. There’s nothing to fear,” the owner of the calming voice said.

He discerned a hint of amusement in the reassuring statement and pressed his eyelids firmer together in response. His parched throat was sore, and he could only muster a hoarse whisper. “What is going on? If I’m dead, I don’t want to know. If not, I want my mum.”

A halting sigh greeted his answer. “I promise to answer your questions once you’ve opened your eyes.”

Deciding it was better to face the stranger than remain clueless about his predicament, he complied with her demand. As his vision adjusted to the sudden brightness, the shape of a slender woman came into focus.

“Welcome, Rafael. I’m Madlen Pepper.”

She was pretty, with piercing gray eyes and chestnut hair piled atop her head. In her multi-colored dress, she looked as harmless as a butterfly, but it was the warmth of her smile that soothed the worst of his fears.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he lied.

“Let me get you something to drink. You must be sore.”

To his surprise, after only a few drinks of the fresh, fruity beverage she gave him, the pain was gone.

“Are you a doctor? Where... why?” The words tumbled from his mouth in a messy jumble.

“I realize you must feel confused. First and foremost, you are safe here. You did need a little help during your transition, but you pushed through like a warrior.”

She squeezed his hand once and let go. “You are in a place called Centisom. As for why and how – you seem a bit young to be here, but everything will be explained soon.”

He had a hard time keeping up. What was this Centi-thing, for a start? Was his mind caught in a weird dream? But what escaped his mouth first was a pathetic “I’m hungry.”

She chuckled. “Of course! I see you’ve got your priorities right. How about I give you a check-up, then we fetch some food for you?”

A doctor, after all. At his tiny nod, she retrieved a rainbow-colored canvas bag that bulged as though it had swallowed a small mountain. She pulled out a slab of colorful stone and raised it in front of his brow. He frowned. That was not doctor-like at all. However, the promise of sustenance held him still.

When his eyes hurt from trying to inspect the swirls inside the stone, he let his gaze wander around the cozy room. Cream fabrics, thick rugs over honey hardwood, and a crackling fireplace undermined his hospital theory. His unease only grew at the sight of the big candles and old-fashioned oil lamps on the rustic wood furniture.

“Don’t you have any power here?”

The woman shook her head. “There is no need.”

His heart sank. Forgoing electricity would not occur to him in any self-respecting dream. Plus, his stomach was growling in hunger. One shouldn’t feel bodily functions while asleep, right? On an impulse, he shut his eyes and tried to fly, but his body stayed put. In growing trepidation, he pinched himself. It stung.

Misgiving seized him. If it wasn’t a dream… and it wasn’t a hospital... then was it… an abduction?

He blinked to hold back a surge of hot tears at the thought of being kidnapped. The most pressing question was, to what end did they abduct him?

She set the stone aside. “Don’t be sad, Rafael, I assure you that you’ll go back to your life as soon as you are ready.” She gave his arm a soft pat. “All of you are here for a good reason.”

What? He wasn’t the only captive?

“I want to go home,” he said, scooting back on the bed. “I don’t care for your explanation. Release me.” He hated that his voice broke a little. “Now.”

Her smile dimmed. “I wish we could do that, Rafael. I know this is upsetting, but believe me, we mean you no harm. And you will go back to your family. Please, try to hold on until we’ve had a chance to explain.”

He eyed the door, but without knowing where it led, it wasn’t worth the risk. His shoulders sagged in defeat.

The petite woman sighed and brought out another beautiful stone. This one had reddish swirls against a pale gold background. Motioning for him to come closer, she repeated the procedure, this time placing the cold mineral slab against his chest. “We can’t change the fact that you’re here,” she said, “but the least I can do is give you a check-up and provide a meal, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. A light within the stone began to pulse like a heartbeat.

“That looks good, Rafael,” she said with an encouraging smile. “Your astral body is healthy.”

His mind raced. Astral body? Isn’t that the etheric, spiritual side of a person? As in, unreal? Yet he felt real enough.

Whatever. For now, solving the mind-bending riddle wasn’t a priority.

She placed the stone back in the weird bag and offered her hand. “Come on, let’s find something to eat. What’s your favorite food?”

That was fine with him. First food, then flight.